The Incident
by fairy tale echo
Summary: It all started at MacLaren's Mega-Margarita Monday. written for Yuletide 2005, set S1 era, Ted/Barney


The first night I met Barney, I remember going back to the apartment and laughing about it to Marshall. I threw my keys into the basket by the front door and chuckled as I related the way this total stranger had sidled up next to me in the bar, tossed his arm around my shoulder and told me he was going to "teach me how to live."

Marshall sat on our lumpy couch, drinking a beer and watching a late-night re-run of SportsCenter. His eyebrows knitted together in something resembling confusion. "Dude, that guy was totally _hitting_ on you." He shrugged when he said it, taking a swig of beer and not looking away from the TV.

I laughed as I hung up my coat. "No _way_. He spent the rest of the night trying to pick up chicks. Oh, and he must have introduced me to, like, fifteen girls in the bar."

I dropped heavily to the couch next to Marshall.

"Uh, no man. He said he noticed you at the urinal? He put his arm around you? He wanted you to wear a suit? That guy was _hitting_ on you!"

"C'mon, baby, you don't think men can show affection?" I teased, throwing my arm around Marshall's shoulders and still laughing.

I felt somewhat dizzy, and not because of the cocktails I consumed that night. I think it had something to do with meeting Barney. He was so unlike Marshall, who was really my only other close friend. There was something … _exciting_ about Barney's determined recklessness. And besides, thanks to his routine of _"Haaaaaave You Met Ted?"_ I currently had two phone numbers in my coat pocket.

"It's different, we've known each other for years. This is a total stranger. Who was hitting on you!" Marshall's voice was still uninterested, he was concentrating much more on the Play of the Day than our conversation.

"Nah," I assured him. "You'll see. I invited Barney to meet us at MacLaren's on Thursday."

"Whatever, dude. He was still hitting on you."

The scores for that night's Vikings game came on and Marshall turned up the TV. I let the conversation drop.

Marshall and Lilly met Barney a few nights later. Within a few weeks the three of us, Marshall, Lilly, and me, became the four of us. Marshall never said anything else about Barney hitting on me and for the most part, I never thought of it again.

Until the night we took Robin to MacLaren's Mega-Margarita Monday.

* * * * *

We were stuffed in the back of a cab and I knew, sorta, that Barney and Robin were bickering. What else was new?

The _sorta_ was because my head was pounding, but in that pleasant, fuzzy way. I had my eyes closed and moved happily with the rocking of the cab, sandwiched tightly between Robin and Barney. Only MacLaren's Mega-Monday Margaritas could make the back of a New York City cab feel like a hammock on a sandy beach.

I briefly tuned into Barney and Robin's argument.

"It's stupid to take me home first, Barney! Ted and I live much closer to each other!"

"Like you can measure distance at this point, Robin. I think all those Mega-Margaritas have you stuck using the metric system."

"Of course I use the metric system, you loser, I'm Canadian!"

"Then who is the _real_ loser here, eh?" Barney's voice pitched mockingly on the_ "eh."_

It was when Robin shouted "Canadia is the home of many great Americans!" that the first clue of how drunk she was penetrated my happy haze.

I opened my eyes and laughed, expecting Robin and Barney to join me in a fit of the giggles, but neither one seemed to be smiling.

Robin's hand shot out as she pointed at Barney almost viciously. "You tell Coleslaw," she pointed to the cab driver "to take YOU home first, Barney!"

Barney snorted. "Too late, we're practically at your apartment now. Also, our driver's name is _Krunoslav_. If you'd do the practical thing and learn Croatian, you could tell him yourself!"

They kept fighting, yelling right over each other. I didn't want to see it so I closed my eyes and tried to get back to the hammock.

"You should be going home first! By the time the cab gets back to your neighborhood – "

"I don't see how that's any of your business since I'm paying for the ride!"

Whatever our cab driver's name was, he didn't seem too happy to have Robin and Barney shrieking in his back seat. It probably wasn't an accident when a few minutes later we pulled up in front of Robin's apartment and he slammed on the brakes suddenly, sending the three of us pitching forward.

I was still saying, "Owwwww," when Robin jumped out of the cab. I slid toward the door she'd just slammed and rolled down the window, calling out to her. "C'mon, Robin! Don't ruin MacLaren's Mega-Margarita Monday!"

I heard the click-clack of Robin's heels on the sidewalk as she stalked back to the cab. She leaned her head in the window and glared at Barney. Then she gave me the weirdest look. It was like pity and kindness mixed with, I don't know, exasperation.

"Ted, tomorrow we can say it was the Mega-Margaritas talking but…I feel like I have to…say something. Ted, the thing is…" she trailed off for a second, looking down at her feet. Then she looked up and fixed me with an unwavering stare. "The thing is, Barney is totally in love with you. It makes him a possessive asshole on occasion and you need to do _some_thing about it."

I knew my mouth dropped open. And I swore the cab driver let out a low whistle. But I couldn't stop myself from laughing. I tugged at Robin's shirt-sleeve. "Robin, it's a stupid cab ride, no worries!"

Her eyes weren't laughing back. They were looking past me, to the other side of the cab. "Tell him already, Barney." As she turned to leave, Robin patted my hand gently and said, "Thanks for the ride, Coleslaw."

I was still laughing when I rolled the window up and turned to face Barney. "Can you _believe_ that? No more Mega-Margaritas for Robin!"

Barney _wasn't_ laughing. He wasn't even looking at me. His face was turned away, his eyes gazing out his window, and his posture was unnaturally stiff.

I mentally noted through my fast-waning buzz that something had to be _very_ wrong, 'cause, see, being that stiff wasn't good for his suit.

Krunoslavmuttered something in Croatian and sped off, throwing me back into my seat.

I decided that was what knocked the wind out of me.

* * * * *

Barney barked something at Krunoslav and before I knew it, we'd switched directions and were headed for his place instead of mine. I tried to think of something to say. I wanted to make a joke, knock on Robin, anything, anything to get the scowl off Barney's face and his eyes back on my face. But everything felt stuck in my throat. When we pulled up to his brownstone, he still hadn't looked at me. He threw a wad of cash at Krunoslav, muttered something under his breath and jumped out of the cab without a backwards glance at me.

I knew it would be for the best to go home and talk about the whole stupid thing tomorrow, when everyone had sobered up and gotten some space from the margaritas. Robin would apologize for her weird statement, Barney would make a nasty comment about Robin needing to get laid, and I would chuckle about how Krunoslav's peeling out had almost broken my nose. And it'd be like none of this happened.

I heard Marshall's voice from years ago dimly in the back of my head: _"That guy was hitting on you!_"

I scuttled out of the cab after Barney. "Coleslaw, I just gotta …"

I was pretty sure I heard him laughing as I slammed the door.

* * * * *

"Barney! Wait up, c'mon!" It seemed a lot more dramatic when I realized Barney wasn't running away from me or anything, he was walking toward his building at a normal rate. He hesitated for a second when he heard me shouting, but he stopped. He still hadn't turned to face me though. That was the really frustrating part. "C'mon," I said, taking a few shorter steps and stopping right behind him. "Why won't you turn around and look at me?"

He whirled around a little faster than I was expecting, and I was probably still a little buzzed. That was the only reason I took a step away from him, I swear.

"That's why I won't turn around and look at you, Ted!" He shouted, pointing a finger at me as I stumbled back.

"What? Because my reflexes are a little slow?"

"No, asshole, because you can't bear to meet my eyes now, because you're flinching away from me as if I …" he paused to take a shaky breath.

I took the chance to jump in. "Hey, wait a second, _you're_ the one that wasn't looking at _me_!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't feel like the pity look because of some wrong idea Robin got into her head from out of nowhere."

That wasn't what I expected him to say. During the cab ride, with the words stuck in my throat, I'd planned out how this conversation would go, and it wasn't like this. I would tell Barney that it was no big deal if he thought he had a little crush on me. I'd say that it was probably a natural thing to think, what with all the time we spent together. I might mention something about how I'd always suspected it, since he spent more time with me than with anyone else and he referred to us as the "dynamic duo" to all his work friends. I'd make a joke or something about how it was no big deal, and he'd laugh and say something dirty about how he still was going to get more babes' phone numbers when we went out because I might be cute but I didn't have the kind of chest he was interested in. It would be awkward for about three seconds, but then it'd be OK.

That was what I thought would happen. I didn't think he'd deny having a crush on me. That hadn't even entered my mind. And that was when it pinged in my mind: _Part of me agreed with part of what Robin had said_.

It was a pretty weird realization that was for sure. But what was even weirder was … instead of feeling relief over the fact that Robin had been wrong I felt somehow, I don't know, deflated.

I must have been standing there with my mouth hanging open a second too long because Barney was talking again. "Yeah, or worse than pity, that semi-horrified look you're sporting right this second." He gestured wildly towards my head.

"I'm not horrified," I defended.

"Yeah, I see you're practically dancing on tables with joy at the idiotic concept I'm in love with you." His voice was sarcastic, which was good. Even if he was talking about starving orphans in Tibet, Barney's voice had to be sarcastic.

And that was when I knew. I just _knew_. That was the moment when I could apologize and write it off as being buzzed, make a crack about Robin, and tell Barney he owed me for the cab to my place. But it was like sliding out of the cab and calling out to Barney. I knew that I couldn't leave it that way. It wasn't _Thinking Ted_ who knew this, it was that _Other_ _Ted_, the one that just DID things – the one that Barney always coaxed out of me at the Liberty Bell or MacLaren's on a regular weeknight.

"Idiotic? What's idiotic about being in love with me? I'll have you know I'm a fine catch!" I smiled gamely.

Barney let out a sound that was halfway between a snort and a guffaw. "Is this more of the stupid shit about meeting your future wife?" He grimaced when he said it, as if the words tasted bad in his mouth.

Right then, so much clicked in my head, from the night I'd met Robin on. I remembered the way Barney's face had turned up at the bar that night when I told him I was ready to settle down, how right after that he'd become even more dedicated to luring me into weird, complicated adventures that involved only the two of us. I heard him forcing me to promise him that we were best friends, on the phone barking orders to meet him out, trying to dissuade me from waiting for the Slutty Pumpkin on Halloween or Robin during those parties I had at the apartment. And that was when I knew. I just _knew_.

I thought of the night of Robin, talking about signals. What had Barney said? _"What, is she gonna bat her eyes at you in Morse code? NO! You just kiss her!"_

"I hate to break it to you, but you'd make a shitty wife."

Before the expression on his face could even change, I grabbed Barney's wrists and pulled him awkwardly toward me and kissed him.

* * * * *

It was awkward.

And rough. Barney sorta slammed into my lips, there was nothing smooth about it. As he came crashing toward me, I pushed forward, hanging onto his wrists, not wanting to give him the chance to pull away.

He didn't.

Our noses collided and I felt the sharp sting of tears in the back of my eyes, but I simply turned my head to meet his lips, unwilling to let this go.

In the razor-sharp heartbeat of a moment, I saw how horribly wrong this was all about to go. Robin had been wrong. Marshall had been wrong. I had been wrong. Barney really _did_ want to be friends and I was getting _worse _at reading signals and was also, apparently bisexual.

That was I released Barney's wrists. He could do what he wanted, step back and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, cuss and give _me_ the pity-look, laugh and pretend this was a joke.

_Thinking-Ted_ returned full-force and it was no great stretch for him to think this was an awful idea.

And then Barney bit at my lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, and in one quick jolt, slid his tongue into my mouth.

* * * * *

It wasn't awkward.

That was the thing, it wasn't awkward at all, from the second I felt his tongue in my mouth, no, it wasn't like kissing a woman or anything, but it wasn't weird or confusing. Barney's wrists came up to the lapels of my jacket and he jerked me toward him. I kept my head at an angle and leaned into his grip, kissing him hard. My arms felt useless, so I snaked them around Barney's waist. Part of me wanted to pull him closer, but we were already pressed chest to chest, without a single inch between us. Instead, I rocked forward, grinding my hips into Barney. He already had an erection, which was no surprise, because I did too. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this turned on, the last time I'd been so excited from a hard, sloppy round of kissing.

Frankly, I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a hard, sloppy round of kissing at all. Somewhere in the last few months, it'd become all about what I _should_ want and where my life _should_ be. When had I last let my life be what it _was_?

Right then, with Barney's hands scrabbling frantically at my lapels as he surged towards me, knocking me a few steps backward, my life was pretty damn good.

* * * * *

Which was, of course, when Barney had to pull away. He let go of my coat and stepped back in one fluid movement, as though he'd been doing nothing other than standing next to me on the street, talking about the latest new nightclub, as though he hadn't been kissing me so fiercely I could still feel the imprint of his mouth.

I tried not to gasp audibly. "That, Ted, was what I think we shall refer to as 'The Incident.' And from here on out, we shall never refer to 'The Incident' again." Barney actually curled his fingers into quotation marks when he said _The Incident._

I was still so hard that I had problems focusing, but all I could think of was … _Barney was rumpled_. And Barney, he never got rumpled, was the thing.

He was always immaculately outfitted: from the flattering cut of his expensive suits to the haircuts he got once a week, without fail, to keep an even line in his hair. And I'd made Barney rumpled. He was flushed to the roots of his hair and the place where my arms had been around his waist had creased and bunched up his suit.

I laughed. I couldn't help it and I couldn't stop. I just laughed. It felt like I was breathing for the first time in months.

Barney's impassive glance grew cold in the face of my laughter. "Fuck this." He turned and walked away from me again.

"Barney, wait, c'mon," I heard myself saying again. He didn't stop this time. I shouted at his back instead. "I'm sorry, only, what if I don't wanna call this 'The Incident' and never refer to it again?"

That stopped him. He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly, but he didn't turn around. "Yeah, Ted, believe me, you _really _do. Walk away now, we'll never mention this again, and it can be one stupid thing we did one stupid night because Robin got her signals crossed and you got desperate and mixed up and – "

"I'm not desperate."

The smile he had on when he turned to face me wasn't a kind one. "Oh, sure. Yeah, you're all about emotional stability these days, careening around New York City determined to meet your one in eight million, who the hell cares about everyone else in your life, still hopelessly stuck on Robin,"

"Barney," I walked toward him, but he stepped back, holding his hands up, wrists out of my reach.

"No, see Ted, you don't get to do that. I don't get to be some story you retell to your kids someday, some reassuring fable about how it's A-OK to get confused and think you might have special feelings in your tummy for your friend but how friendship is ever-so important instead. I'm not part of your after school special, all right?" His voice was so bitter it didn't sound anything like him.

I should've been apologetic, I should've been reassuring. I wasn't.

"Hey, fuck you! I know how I've been, I know how the last few months have been, it's been weird, Barney, OK, I _know_ that. It's just everything in my life tilted out of focus and I started thinking there were all these things I was supposed to want and I…" I trailed off, running my hands through my hair.

"Yeah, Ted, I get it." His hands were still up, palms facing me. He shook them once, slowly. His voice was resigned now. "That's why we're gonna pretend 'The Incident' never happened and you'll continue to figure out what you're supposed to want."

And that was when I knew. I just _knew._

"Barney, I waited years on a rooftop for the possibility of a pumpkin, I stole a French horn for Robin, and I broke into a matchmaker's office for an address. Do you _really _think I let anything stand in the way of what I want? I mean," and I smiled, biting down the laughter from a few minutes before. "Haaaaave you met Ted?"

He smiled, I don't think he wanted to, but he smiled.

He didn't walk away when I moved closer but I don't think he was expecting what I did next. Maybe I wasn't either. Pulling carefully on the bottom of his jacket, I smoothed out his suit. I didn't move away when I was done, I just stood inches away from him, our faces almost touching.

"Can't we just _see_? Can't we _see_ what we want, no supposed to about it?"

I felt as nervous as I ever had, flashing back to that first night I'd met him in the bar, the way he'd slung an arm over my shoulder, when he had so casually promised to teach me how to live.

He barely turned his face, but I knew he was grinning, just like me. I felt his breath on my cheek. "You really _will_ have to get a better suit, you know."

And that was the last thing he said before he kissed me.

* * * * *


End file.
